


Bits of Stuff II

by kestra_troi



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott, Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass Play, BDSM Scene, Barebacking, Beards (Facial Hair), Beta Jackson Whittemore, Bisexual Jackson Whittemore, Bisexual Scott, Bisexual Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bisexual Thor (Marvel), Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Boot Worship, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Jon Snow, Bottom Thor (Marvel), Brother/Brother Incest, Canon Divergence - Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Clothed Male Naked Male, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Slut Dean Winchester, Coitus Interruptus, Come Sharing, Coming In Pants, Daddy Kink, Dom Loki (Marvel), Dom/sub, Dominant Loki, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Edging, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Ficlet Collection, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Foot Jobs, Frottage, Gags, Headcanon, Height Differences, High Heels, I Don't Even Know, Jock Straps, Jon is a Writer, Lapdance, Light Bondage, Locker Room, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, Mentioned Liam, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, NSFW, No Sex, Not Beta Read, Not Serious, Notfic, Older Woman/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Other, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Outdoor Sex, POV Derek, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamorous Pack, Polyandry, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Praise Kink, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Questioning, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Sam Winchester Has a Large Cock, Scent Kink, Season/Series 06, Season/Series 08, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sex in Space, Sex in a Car, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Size Queen Dean Winchester, Slut Dean Winchester, Slut Shaming, Spanking, Stripper!Loki, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Sub Thor (Marvel), The Author Regrets Nothing, Thirsty Thor, Top Loki (Marvel), Top Sam Winchester, Under-negotiated Kink, Verbal Humiliation, Werewolf Jackson Whittemore, bdsm undertones, how is that not a tag?, overuse of Sammy, power bottom thor, smut and humor, smutty drabble, subby Thor, top tormund
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:22:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19463911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestra_troi/pseuds/kestra_troi
Summary: This is a place for my smutty drabbles, unfinished works, headcanons, etc...Each chapter is self-contained unless otherwise noted, pairings will be in the titles, sex acts/kinks will be listed here for each chapter.Chapter 1: Jon x Tormund [Ficlet, Modern AU, Frottage, Daddy Kink, Ass Worship, Bottom!Jon]Chapter 2: Derek x Everybody Smut bunny/Fic idea [Military AU, Blowjobs, Bottom!Derek, Polyandry]Chapter 3: Sam Winchester's Masturbatory Habits Headcanon [Masturbation, Edging, Coming in Pants]Chapter 4: Thorki Notfic [Stripper!Loki, Unrelated AU, Human AU, Lapdance, subby!Thor]Chapter 5: Thorki Drabble [Post-Ragnorak, Pre-Infinity War, BDSM, DomTop!Loki, SubBottom!Thor, Rope Bondage, CMNM]Chapter 6: Scackson Smut Ficlet [Scent Kink, Season 6 Reunion, Jockstraps/Locker Room]Chapter 7: Jonmund, [Sequel to Bits of Stuff #1 Chp. 7] [Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Semi-Public Sex, They Get Caught]Chapter 8: Thorki Notfic [Sequel to Chapter 4] [BDSM Scene, Dom!Loki, Boot Licking, Cock and Ball Torture]Chapter 9: Thorki drabble [100 words or less; Power Bottom!Thor, Post-Ragnorak]Chapter 10: Wincest [Outdoor Sex, PWP]





	1. "There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute..." Jonmund

**Author's Note:**

> As always if something you find here inspires you, let me know. I'm always happy to read other fics with these pairings.
> 
> Chapter 1 title is an Edgar Allan Poe quote from "The Black Cat".

“Oi,” Tormund hollered after slamming the front door to their apartment closed. “Pull down those pants, boy! Daddy’s home!”

Jon huffed through his nose, grinning at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Bending over, he spat the mix of water and toothpaste from his mouth into the sink and placed his rinse cup on the counter. Once upright, he undid his trousers and pulled them down over his plump ass. The last thing he needed was another pair of ripped skinny jeans torn at the seams by his boyfriend’s strong, loving hands. He’d given up wearing underwear months ago for much the same reason. 

Picking up his plastic cup of water, Jon took another swig and rinsed his mouth a second time, spitting it out as he heard Tormund’s footsteps coming near. “How was your day, luv?” Jon asked, patting his mouth dry with a hand towel.

“Good,” Tormund answered simply. His gaze turned hungry as his eyes drifted down to Jon’s bared backside. “Spent most of it dreaming ‘bout that ass.” 

For the second time in just a matter of minutes, Jon smiled. Tormund was always unabashed with his appreciation. Even after four years. Jon reached back and softly petted his right butt cheek. “What, this ass?”

Tormund growled. “Oi, come ‘ere.”

As Jon turned around Tormund stalked over and wrapped his long arms around his smaller boyfriend’s waist, dragging the younger man even closer to him. “Tormund,” Jon whispered, tilting his head up for the kiss he knew was coming. Tormund didn’t disappoint, claiming Jon’s soft lips while his hands squeezed and groped his boyfriend’s fine ass. 

“My beautiful boy,” Tormund praised, his voice soft and full of genuine adoration. Jon groaned, gently tugging his boyfriend back down by his full, lush beard for more kisses, moaning into the man’s mouth as thick fingers slipped into the crack of his ass teasing his hole. 

Cupping his boyfriend’s pretty face in one hand and his boyfriend’s perfect ass in the other, Tormund slowly eased away to look him in the eye. “And how was your day, my little crow?”

“Good,” Jon said, echoing his love’s tone. They grinned at each other like a pair of lovestruck schoolyard kiddies. “Finished a chapter, did the dishes. Edited a couple others, then I made lunch. Took a quick nap and here I am.”

“You ready for me, baby?” Tormund purposefully rubbed Jon’s hole directly as he asked loving the way Jon arched against him, head falling back, cheeks pink.

“Always,” Jon replied breathless. 

Tormund snorted faintly at that, but said nothing. Instead, he swooped in for more kisses while simultaneously backing them up until Jon’s hairless butt cheeks rested atop the counter. Then he spun Jon around and squatted into a crouch.

With the first swipe of the tongue against his hole, Jon nearly buckled, arching his back and nearly smacking his head into the bathroom mirror in his attempt for more. Tormund smiled big and bright, his beard hairs tickling his boyfriend. Jon shivered, resting his head against the glass, his hot breath fogging up a small fraction of the mirror as his boyfriend pried apart his cheeks.

Jon moaned, panting and biting his lip to keep quiet at least a little. Dignity always dignity. Which went out the window when Tormund ran the tip of his tongue along his taint. 

“Tor-mund,” he sputtered, trying to raise his knee onto the counter to give his boyfriend more access. His skinny jeans, still up around his thighs prevented the move. “ _ Tormund _ .”

Giving Jon’s hole a quick swipe, Tormund pulled back and roughly yanked Jon’s jeans down until they were crumpled around his ankles. Then, he shoved Jon’s knee up into place and settled back into eating him out with no more distractions and lots of unrestrained enjoyment. Nothing in the world tasted better to him than his boy. 

“Fffuuck,” Jon whined senselessly. In the position, they were in he couldn’t quite reach down and touch his hardening dick the way he wanted to without upsetting their balance, so he did his best to push back on his boyfriend’s face wriggling his ass to get the man’s tongue exactly where he wanted it. Tormund toyed with him though, giving him only teasing glances of the tongue here and there at his own pace and with his own targets in mind. 

Jon rested his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes unable to bear seeing his own aroused and desperate expression. He wanted more. He wanted his boyfriend’s tongue, and his fingers, and his cock. Maybe even a dildo or two along the way. But he hadn’t prepped for any of that yet. “Tormund...” 

As of reading his boyfriend’s mind Tormund licked and kissed Jon’s hole and reluctantly pulled away. He got to his feet, leaving his thumb idly rubbing Jon’s taint. “Later?”

Nodding, Jon caught his breath and eased his knee back to the floor forcing Tormund to let go of his favorite prize. Half turning to face his boyfriend Jon asked, “What do you want for dinner?”

“You.”

Chuckling, Jon smiled and gave Tormund a quick peck on the lips. “Besides that.”

Tormund shrugged and pushed Jon forward, hips to counter, then he pressed himself flat against his boyfriend, his covered erection slotting perfectly against Jon’s ass crack. Jon sucked his supple bottom lip between his teeth and sighed as Tormund grinded against him sensually. 

“Whatever you make, I’ll eat,” Tormund whispered into his ear. He slowly tilted Jon’s head up and to the side, licking and sucking and kissing his way up and down his neck. Jon shuddered and rolled his hips in time with his boyfriend’s movements. 

“I-I-I was, was thinking maybe, um, grilling some chicken,” Jon offered. Tormund nodded and rumbled in agreement. “With potatoes and broccoli?”

“Sounds good,” Tormund replied, reaching down to his jeans. Jon heard the zipper being undone and watched Tormund in the mirror fish his dick out of his trousers without ever taking his eyes off their reflection. He felt it when Tormund dropped his fat cock on the small of his back and gave his boyfriend a disapproving look. “Just a quick one,” he promised. Jon relaxed and nodded. 

Stepping onto his back foot a bit, Tormund held his shaft pointing straight up and then rocked forward until his thick erection slipped between Jon’s pert cheeks. Jon sighed, tentatively working his hips up and down. Tormund copied him, bringing them close together so he could wrap his arms around his boyfriend again. 

“Tonight, I’m gonna spend hours getting you all wet and hot,” Tormund vowed, licking and nipping at the tip of Jon’s ear. He shuddered, pressing back harder on his boyfriend’s dick. “Not gonna stop until you’re begging for my cock.”

“Tormund,” Jon groaned. 

“Call me Daddy,” he requested. 

Blushing red, Jon muttered over his shoulder, still shy, “Daddy.” 

Tormund moaned against Jon’s head, burying his face in Jon’s curls and then his neck. “Again, baby,” he begged while his hands dipped under Jon’s shirt and skimmed up to his chest. 

“Daddy,” he mumbled. Jon licked his lips. “I want it, Daddy. Want your big cock.”

“Yeah?” 

Breathing raggedly, Jon silently nodded, rocking back with more force. Tormund’s hands shot right to his hips, keeping himself from slipping out, but letting Jon set the pace. 

“You gonna come on my cock tonight, baby?” Tormund rested his forehead on Jon’s shoulder, watching the tip of his erection slide in and out of Jon’s ass crack. “You gonna be good for Daddy?”

“Yes, sir,” Jon affirmed. “I’m gonna be good for you tonight, Daddy. Promise.”

“You always are, my beautiful boy,” Tormund sighed. “My perfect, little crow.”

With a long, low groan Tormund erupted, painting Jon’s backside with his come. Suddenly, he pulled away, hurriedly stroking his shaft for the full effect coating the small of Jon’s back with his seed. 

Jon breathed deep, trying to ignore his half hard and twitching dick. 

Finished, Tormund allowed the tip of his cock to dip into his cooling come and slip between Jon’s cheeks one more time as he rapidly softened. He kissed the crown of Jon’s head. “I need a shower,” he proclaimed, making a point of sniffing his armpit. “Care to join?”

Fondly shaking his head, Jon replied, “Sorry, luv. Somebody’s got to start dinner cooking.”

Tormund whined playfully and pulled away after giving Jon a backwards hug. He snatched the hand towel off the rack and wiped down both his cock and Jon’s backside. Then he tossed the damp and sticky thing onto the counter. “I may be a horndog,” he stated proudly as he knelt down and hauled Jon’s skinny jeans back up onto his hips. “But I’m also a gentleman.”

Jon chuckled a bit too loudly and Tormund arched his brow at him. “I am,” he insisted. He tutted and gave Jon’s ass a friendly swat. “Seems like somebody’s ass is in need of a spanking.”

Carefully tucking his erection away, Jon zipped up and caught his boyfriend’s wrist before Tormund could get too far away. “Tonight,” he promised.

“Aye, tonight,” Tormund readily agreed. Jon stepped in and gave Tormund a soft, sweet kiss and a tender tug to the beard before sauntering off. “Oi, the things you do to me,” Tormund swore watching intently as Jon walked out heading towards the kitchen. “My little crow.”


	2. Derek x Everybody [Military AU, Poly Pack-ish, Bottom!Derek]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is in the military. So are Chris, Stiles, Scott, Jackson, Isaac, and Boyd. They are a platoon who have sex with each other. That is all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know NOTHING about the military, so this is basically a porno parody. 
> 
> Comments and kudos welcome.

So, I have this idea…

The guys of Teen Wolf are in the military, a single platoon. Derek is like third or fourth generation officer making his way up the ranks, super serious. His CO is Chris Argent, he doesn’t like the man but he’s efficient and a good strategist. As for the rest of the group: they’re idiots. 

Well, maybe not idiots, but they certainly are ridiculous and young. Stiles is the big-talking loudmouth who never shuts up and is a total spaz, has little regard for authority, and yet somehow still made it in. And he’s always in cahoots with Scott their unit medic who is a ray of sunshine and seems like a dumbass sweet cinnamon roll, but is actually smart, really cool, and a great shot. 

Then there’s Jackson, typical pretty boy asshole out to prove himself. Quiet Isaac following in his older brother’s footsteps to get away from an abusive father. Even quieter Boyd, who Derek knows next to nothing about except he’s easily one of the best soldiers he’s ever seen. 

Out of all of them, Scott is the only one he likes. 

Which is why he notices just how often Scott goes off to be alone, one on one with basically everybody in their platoon at least once a day. At first he assumed Scott was just a really good listener, a shoulder to cry on, but he starts hearing rumors about exactly what Scott gets up to with their brothers-in-arms. 

And it has nothing to do with shoulders. 

Apparently, Scott is really good when he’s on his knees. 

Derek is startled at first because Scott seems like such a pure type guy. He’d be much more willing to accept it about Stiles or Jackson, both of whom share in peak-dumbass-bisexual energy. But Scott? He’s such a goody two shoes, right?

_ Wrong! _

The rumors are proven true when he catches Scott and Stiles in the latrine one night with Scott sucking dick like a champion. Derek is stunned, but the two bozos just wave at him. Well, Stiles waves all nonchalant because he doesn’t give a single fuck about the rules and regulations. Scott actually pulls the thick cock out of his mouth to offer his services as soon as Stiles is done...and that’s when Derek realizes he’s hard as a rock in his underwear. 

Instead of telling them off, Derek grumbles and glares and stalks back to his bunk intending to forget all about it. He doesn’t. Later, Scott offers a second time, while they’re in the Mess tent and Derek ignores him. The third time, however, he’s curious. Scott’s a handsome man, kind hearted, and if the rumors are to be believed a cocksucking expert. So he has to at least give this a try, right? He doesn’t have anyone at home anyways, so he’s not cheating unlike some of the guys, plus he’s fooled around with a guy or two back home in California. A little experimentation in college here and there. Nothing serious or sober. 

So he gets his dick sucked and for once the rumors are 1,000% true. Scott is amazing! Derek can see why he is so popular. And thus, Derek joins the rotation of Scott’s regulars along with the rest of his platoon. 

They have a couple more rendezvous. Derek is into it. He finds himself really falling for Scott in a way he never expected. He doesn’t love him, per se, but there is definitely an affection that borders on if-anyone-hurts-him-I-will-kill-them levels. Not his usual reaction to sex. But he’s gung-ho about it all. To the point that he thinks maybe Scott would be willing to take things further: anal penetration. Derek would love the chance to try fucking a guy, fucking anybody, in the ass.

Sweet Scott gently rebuffs him, and Derek is disappointed, but then Scott bends him over and rims him to within an inch of his life. It’s basically a religious experience. Derek is no virgin, but he’s never tried ass play, and the things Scott does with his tongue…

From then on, it’s ass, ass, ass. Derek loves getting eaten out and he even loves taking a finger or two. Or three. And then comes the night when he bends over and basically present his ass to Scott like a bitch in heat and to his delight Scott mounts him, right and proper. Happily, popping his cherry and showing him the meaning of anal orgasm. 

Yet again, from then on it’s ass, ass, ass. Whenever he can get it, Derek is riding that D. Total bottom. Can’t get enough. And this is when Derek gets introduced and inducted into a whole new world: sexual adventures with the platoon. 

He learns, and  _ sees _ Scott sucking off every other guy in their platoon and then also their CO who is apparently Scott’s on-again, off-again lover and the only guy Scott bottoms for besides occasionally Stiles. 

Stiles is basically dicking-down everybody except Boyd with his ludicrously thick cock. Jackson is a total man-slut, sissy bottom offering up his ass to everyone including Derek now, which Derek takes full advantage of. Isaac tops and bottoms, back and forth, while Boyd rarely participates as a solid top. Later, Derek finds out that Boyd is in love with Scott and is basically his other on-again, off-again lover/boyfriend and the three of them are trapped in a weird non-poly, but kinda polyamorous love triangle. 

And through it all, Derek is getting dicked down on the regular by everybody except Jackson who exclusively bottoms (aside from his blowjobs from Scott where he turns overly aggressive). He even takes it up the ass from his CO a couple times. And Boyd. But Scott turns out to be his favorite top. Unless he wants it rough and dirty, then it’s the-right-to-be-cocky Stiles. But mostly Scott. But also sometimes Stiles. And sometimes both, at the same time. 

Anywho, that’s just a random smut bunny that’s been lingering in my head for far too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone would like to take this nonsense and try to turn it into an actual fic you have my blessing. Just give me a heads up, please.


	3. Sam Winchester Solo Headcanon [Masturbation, Coming in Clothes, Edging]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a random thought that popped into my head last night while thinking about the differences between Sam and Dean's relationship with masturbation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos welcome.

Unlike his brother, Sam doesn’t take every moment alone as an opportunity to ‘choke the chicken’ as Dean has so eloquently put it. Sometimes he just appreciates the silence and stillness. It goes back to his teen years, being under constant supervision by his cool, sexually experienced (re: obsessed) older brother, and being moved around constantly by an obsessed father. He’s learned how to stretch those few moments alone into something bigger, string them together into one on-going session. A technique he later discovered is called edging.

In libraries and motels all around the country as he’s done homework (and later research for hunts) while Dean was off flirting with any woman who would look his way and/or ‘interviewing witnesses’ he’d be scanning the textbook/tome and subconsciously let his hand drift under the table to his crotch. A few squeezes to start the blood flowing. A couple more to actually begin to get hard. Nothing rushed just a little petting along the shaft to help him keep focused. 

He’d continue studying, his mind occupied with the material he was learning/assignment he was working on, while his hand moved down his thigh to rub and pinch the tip of his hardened erection. As he absorbed the information, finding connections, seeking solutions, he’d be coaxing and squeezing his cock until he was leaking, dripping with pre-come. And then...he’d stop. He’d pause. Give his dick a break to turn the page or reach for a drink or hold down his papers so he could write, whatever.

But as soon as his dick stopped throbbing down his hand would go again, pulling and plucking and caressing his dick to the edge. To the edge, to the edge, to the edge. Again and again, for the few hours he had to himself. 

If he was in public, that’s as far as he went. Careful to never go overboard, too concerned with people seeing him, figuring out what he was doing. Despite the years of practice, the careful control. He didn’t pull stunts when he had company. He didn’t show off. Nobody could know. He’d save it, save the big moment for later. Later that same day, or maybe a week after. One time, he lasted three months, doing things his way. Little by little. 

If he was alone, though, in some dingy motel waiting for Dean to come home from whatever, Dad not expected back for days yet, it was different. The build-up remained the same, hours of touching himself through his jeans, toying with his cock until he felt his balls pull in and then back off. These were his favorite moments, the sessions he preferred the most. Because he could drop what he was doing and focus instead solely on his needs.

At times like this he would occasionally find porn to enjoy, either online or on TV or even, when he was younger, a dirty magazine Dean left lying around. Other times, he wouldn’t bother with anything but his hand and his imagination and his control. Practice makes perfect. And he would wait. 

Wait for the perfect moment, the best orgasm, the furthest boundary of his limits. If he couldn’t do that, he wouldn’t bother starting anything at all. But if he did find that inner satisfaction, the moment that clicked in his head, some invisible point achieved, then he’d let loose. 

Toes curling in his sneakers or boots, breathing harsh and stifled as he erupted in his clothes. Soiling his boxers, coming on his thigh, shooting down his leg, wetting the denim of his jeans. He’d coax and pinch and squeeze every last drop to the very last second and only then would he sink back against his chair, slumping and sagging from relief. Bathing in that moment of goodness, a job well-done, earned. 

It had to be earned. 

He didn’t clean himself up. Not right away. He’d let his jizz cool, dry out even if he was going to be stuck in his clothes for the rest of the day or over night. Going along as if nothing had happened, that was the only way to get things passed his father and brother. He’d wake up the next day or go to take a shower that night, feeling itchy, the come flaking off as he peeled off his stuck-on clothes. This too was part of the moment. Another successful masturbatory session with none the wiser. Just him. This was just his and nobody else’s. Not even Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if this inspires you to write a fic/your own headcanons let me know. I love hearing about it and I'm more than happy to talk about smutty headcanons til the cows come home.


	4. Thorki; Stripper!Loki [Human AU, Unrelated AU, Lapdances]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor goes to a strip club for Fandral's bachelor party. He sees Loki for the first time and gets the show of a lifetime.

For Fandral’s bachelor party they go to a strip club, the only one in town that caters to both men and women, straight and queer alike. Thor has never been. He loves strippers just as much as the next guy, but he prefers gentlemen’s clubs. This place is a little too smoky, dirty, bare bones for his taste, but it’s one of Fandral’s favorite places, so what’s a best man to do?

They’re having a good time: drinks, lap dances, crude jokes, etc...when the announcer exclaims “Up next, welcome to the stage the one, the only Loki King!”

The place erupts with applause and excitement. Thor is barely paying attention, polishing off his latest beer. Until this dude Loki swans onto the stage, that is. And Thor is stunned, properly shooketh. He’s not uptight, he can appreciate a handsome man, but WHOA. Loki is tall, lean, broad-shouldered. All well and good, but what catches Thor’s eyes first is simply the starkness of the man. 

Long, black locks contrasting with pale, pale skin juxtaposed with the vibrant, verdant green of his thigh high boots and latex, over-the-shoulder g-string that perfectly frames not only his muscled chest, but also his sizable bulge. And oh...his nipples are pierced. Pierced and joined together by a link of gold chain. Thor fidgets in his seat, sporting an uncomfortable chubby in his jeans which is thankfully hidden by the table. He’s never been particularly into piercings or men, but he can’t take his eyes off this Loki guy as he goes through his routine. 

Not for a single second. 

Not even to blink. 

He might not even be breathing. 

The music ramps up. Loki undulates down the runway stage like he’s fucking the floor. He moves with such serpentine grace and obvious strength. Those hips...relentless. 

Partway down the gangplank, Loki nabs a helmet or a crown or some kind of horned headgear. In time with the music, he flips it around, holding it by the horns making like he’s fucking the face of whoever is wearing it, writhing lewdly on his knees with savage thrusts. 

Quietly, subconsciously, Thor clears his throat adjusting his persistent erection as best he can. He’s never gotten hard just watching a stripper before. He’s never gotten hard looking at a dude before either. This whole night is turning out to be way better than Thor had ever planned. 

Loki flips the helmet again, catching it easily and gracefully sliding it onto his head. Now, he’s more than a man. He’s a king and a beast all rolled into one as he savagely fucks the stage in time to the music, snarling and gyrating and powerful. 

At this point, Thor is on fire. He can feel his cheeks turning from rosy pink to full on fiery red. His mouth is dry, but oddly also watering. He licks his lips. He can’t take his eyes off this guy. Fandral says something to him, but he doesn’t register the words. He just hums in acknowledgement. 

He’s mystified. Agog and aroused. 

How did this guy do it? How’d he manage to get him so hot and bothered without touching him, without speaking to him, without even looking at him? Was it magic? Is he into dudes now? He might be into dudes now. 

When Loki’s dance ends there is raucous applause, people hooting and hollering throw cash around, making it rain as it were. Thor justs sits there flabbergasted and hard and wanting. 

Other performers come out and do their thing, the guys make their jokes and drink more beers, but it’s all a blur to Thor. It’s Fandral’s night, but now somehow it feels like Thor’s too. He feels a little bad stealing Fandral’s thunder, even if it is solely in his own head, but his focus now is set only on one thing: Loki. He needs more Loki. 

After a couple more dances, Thor gets up to arrange something special for Fandral...and yes, maybe himself too. Thankfully, his boner has gone down. His engine’s still humming, but he can walk around in public without poking anyone’s eyes out. 

He sets up a lapdance for Fandral from his favorite, her stage name forgotten as soon as Thor says it and then he asks if maybe he could if there was anyway could he possibly was maybe Loki King available for private one-on-one sessions? 

Norns! He feels so intensely awkward. Not at all the smooth studly god he likes to be in his day to day life. If he wasn’t so desperate he’d kick his own ass and run out of here. But he can’t leave without getting more Loki in his life. He wants him. And what Thor wants he gets. Usually. Either with money, charm, or rugged good looks. Whatever it takes. He’d do anything. Pay anything, if he could just…

YES!? 

YES!!! 

HE’S AVAILABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RIGHT AWAY!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Thor has never felt so lucky in his entire charmed life. 

He doesn’t make it back to his table, to his friends. Instead, he’s shown to the back rooms, down a dimly lit hallway to a private suite with a thick, bald guard at the door. He gets shown in. Did he pay already? He can’t remember. He can’t think straight. His blood is pounding in his ears louder than the music. In a weird way he feels more turned on now than he did when he was hard. 

The anticipation is killer.

He gets dumped into a simple, wooden chair in an otherwise bare room in front of a small stage set with a pole, a stool, and a boombox. It could not be more bare bones. He might’ve complained had he his blood been reaching his brain, but right now he’s flying on instinct and desire. Primitive lizard brain seeking pleasurable stimulus. Pressing that orgasm button ‘til he dies. 

Loki arrives.

Sweaty. Sans helmet, but still in the rest of his get-up. Still breathtakingly gorgeous. Even more striking up-close. Angular and full of hard edges. Too sharp to be pretty, but too pretty to be anything else. “And what is it you want?”

A lesser man might flinch from the condescension and sarcasm in that voice, but Thor has been in board meetings since he could wear a suit, it takes a lot to crack him. “Whatever I can get,” he says breezily, belying his neediness under a blaise mask. 

Loki grins, and it reminds Thor of an animal, a cat happily toying with its prey. Thor gulps silently. “You’re lucky I like my men big and dumb.”

“Would you settle for a guy who’s just big?” Thor retorts. 

Loki snickers as he struts down towards Thor. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?” He clicks on the music as he passes the player and with the opening lick jumps down to the floor on all fours, prowling and growling. Thor’s face immediately goes slack, instantly drawn back in, entranced while Loki King stalked ever closer. 

He wasn’t used to being the pursued, but in the moment he couldn’t care less. Loki snarls at him in a lascivious and dangerous way when he gets near. Upon reaching arm’s length range, Loki suddenly brushed his palms up the backs of Thor’s legs. 

Eyes blown wide, Thor gasps, sharply inhaling through his nose. His boner quickly surges up to half mast, and there he is in the middle of the room sitting in a depressingly normal chair pitching an obvious, unmistakable tent in his jeans. It doesn’t go unnoticed. The way Loki is smirking makes Thor’s guts clench in the most thrilling way. 

Slinking closer, Loki runs his hands up Thor’s thighs stopping midthigh, well below the boner he caused. Thor startles, wriggling in his seat, held down by Loki’s cool hands. 

“The only rule in here is: no touching,” Loki tells him. He skims the tips of his fingers the rest of the way up Thor’s thighs and poor Thor whines, actually mewls a little before choking down the sound. “I’m going to give you the best lapdance of your life and all you get to do is take it. Think you can handle that?”

Thor can’t speak. His mouth hangs open, but his brain is broken. He’s hard enough to hammer nails and all he wants to do is grab Loki and have his way with him. He nods. At least he thinks he does. As far as he can tell his head might have fallen off. All his blood has rushed south and nothing else exists except his painfully throbbing erection and the man who caused it. 

“Big and dumb,” Loki murmurs happily, almost to himself. He pulls a length of rope from one of his boots whipping out the end of it. “Hands behind your back,” he commands. Thor obeys. 

This isn’t new. Once, Thor had a girl tie his wrists to her headboard with some silk scarves or something. Not new, but definitely different. Loki binds his hands tight, securing him to the chair like a pirate capturing a prisoner. “What’s your name, big guy?”

Thor shivers, Loki’s breath warm against his ear. “Uh...Thor,” he mumbles, having to blink to get a couple brain cells to fire.

“Mmm,” Loki moans like a pornstar. “You ready for a thrill, Thor?”

“Yes, sir,” Thor pants, trying to glance over his shoulder. 

Loki trails his hands up his muscled arms to Thor’s broad shoulders and gives them a quick squeeze. “Try not to come in your pants,” he teases, whispering naughtily into Thor’s ear. Thor groans and Loki slips around to his front again taking a few steps back.

He sways to the music, letting his hands drift slowly from his hips up to his chest, his long neck, and then his face. He never breaks eye contact. Thor stares, hypnotized. True to his word, Loki gives Thor the best lapdance he’s ever had in his life and he’s had more than a few. All while never breaking eye contact, never letting up, never giving Thor a chance to breathe and regroup. 

Unrelenting.

For the grande finale, Loki abruptly grabs ahold of Thor’s ankles and yanks his legs up into the air sliding in between them like he means to… “You ever been fucked, Thor?” Loki asks while rolling his hips, bumping his bulge against Thor’s ass. 

Thor shakes his head no.

Smiling like a cat with the canary, Loki leaned forward, his face scant inches from Thor’s. Close enough to kiss. “Would you like to be?”

Out of breath and on the edge of busting his nuts in his jeans like a teenager, Thor slowly nods. That is new. Still rolling his hips, Loki pushed forward, brushing his nose against Thor’s, mouth open, inviting. Thor leans his head down to meet him, eyes closing when the ropes pull tight and just like that Loki is gone and his legs are on the floor again. 

When Thor finally comes-to, returns to his body from Nirvana or somewhere close to it, Loki is sweeping his curls back into a ponytail. The music is gone. “Tonight’s your lucky night, big boy,” he proclaims, his voice suddenly loud in the otherwise quiet room. With a flick of his wrist and from out of nowhere Loki produces a business card. 

Swanning over to his tied up customer, Loki runs the edge of his thick, rigid business card up Thor’s unwilting, denim-clad shaft, masterfully digging the corner into Thor’s slit for the briefest moment. Thor whines, tensing up from head to toe, hands still bound and cock ready to explode. 

Somehow…

Somehow he manages not to come. 

“Like I said,” Loki continued, without missing a beat. “I like ‘em big and dumb. And you, Thor, fit the bill to a tee.” Dropping his business card onto Thor’s aching erection, Loki said sweetly, “Call me.”

Then he was gone. 

And Thor was alone. 

Dazed and confused. With a wet spot on his thigh and an erection that hurts, and his hands tied behind his back. And all he can think about is one thing: More. More Loki. He needs more Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about strip clubs, so don't @me about how unrealistic this situation/these actions are. I don't care. Otherwise, Kudos and comments are as welcome as ever!


	5. Thorki Drabble [Post-Ragnorak, Pre-Endgame, Incest, Bondage, Sex Toys]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki have sex in the King's quarters. (This vignette is unrelated to Chapter 4.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this drabble back in March. It was going to be longer, but I never finished it. And instead of letting it linger in oblivion I thought I'd write up a quick ending and share what was good to go. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> As always if this inspires you to write/create something let me know! I'm always interested.

Loki shuddered, erupting inside his brother for the final time. He pressed his hands into his brother’s back, forcing Thor to arch further despite his bindings, and Loki slammed his hips sharply into Thor’s reddened ass twice more; relishing in his brother’s muffled whimpers. He smirked, raising his head and whipping his long curls away from his sweaty face. He tugged at his collar. 

The air around them was stale and overwarm, reeking of sex and sweat. The whole room was, in fact. Loki made a mental note to check the life support system for the King’s quarters and make sure no one had yet reset them back to normal. After all an irritated Thor was a much more enjoyable Thor. And much more willing. 

“Perfect as ever, brother.” Loki drew his hands down his brother’s sweat-slicked upper back, his fingers flitting around the intricately coiled ropes that bound Thor’s arms to each other and to the bulkheads near the bed. He gently unfurled his brother’s tightfisted fingers removing the metal rattle from Thor’s right hand. The rattle which had been straight and dry when they had begun was now warped into a serpentine shape and drenched in sweat. 

Smiling at the deformed metal, Loki dropped the little rattle lazily over the side of the bed. The poor, broken thing didn’t make a sound until it clanked lightly onto the floor. For once Loki was appreciative of his brother’s physical prowess; he’d done anything to keep that thing from making a sound and interrupting their fun. Thor the Mighty finally putting his brutish strength to good use. 

Letting his wilting cock slip from his brother’s well-used hole, Loki collapsed onto the bed with a contented sigh, resting his hand on the globe of Thor’s ass. He gave the heated, sensitive flesh a quick pinch, causing his dear brother to groan and squirm. Loki shushed him, lovingly rubbing the abused skin that bore his many red and overlapping handprints. “Have you enjoyed your gift thus far, my King?”

Thor emitted an affirmative noise, nodding his head as deeply as his bindings would allow. Loki rolled onto his side, his clothes sticking to his skin in the most uncomfortable way thanks to their many lascivious exertions. He kissed Thor’s shoulder lightly and snapped his fingers. The gag around his brother’s mouth dissolved into nothing. Loki caught his ear between his teeth and tugged harshly. “Ready for more, my King?”

“Yes,” Thor moaned, flushed and hard. 

“What a pleasant and slatternly whore you’ve turned out to be, brother,” Loki taunted. Sitting up on his knees, he brushed two fingers around his brother’s sensitive rim. Thor gasped, momentarily straining against his bonds, insistently pushing his ass up for more despite the ropes that held him nearly still. 

A delicious sight to behold. 

“A toast to our future,” Loki announced, yanking his fingers away in order to swat his brother’s upturned arse one more time. Thor hissed, whispering his brother’s name in shameless pleading. Loki smiled. 

From out of nowhere, Loki produced two Midgardian toys. One, a rubber phallus which he held in his left hand, and second, a wondrous device called appropriately enough a spider gag, which he held in his right. “And to the many Midgardian adventures we are to share, my dear brother. The many, many adventures.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos welcome.


	6. Scackson Drabble [Scent Kink, Season 6 AU, Locker Room, Reunion]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Jackson meet up in the locker room for a smutty reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There isn't any out-and-out sex in this, but it is definitely smutty. 
> 
> I didn't watch Teen Wolf after Season 2, so this is not to be taken too seriously as far as canon-compliance.

The locker room stank. 

Boy sweat, stale piss, musty clothes, bleach, and the inescapable scent of arousal that clung to pretty much every surface. A heady mix that put a smile on Scott’s face and made his balls tingle with good memories. He learned to suck dick in this room, and in lots of other rooms too, but there was always something about the locker room that made it all better. More vivid. More exciting. Maybe it was the stink? 

Years upon years, layers upon layers of scents telling the same story of hormonal boys becoming hormonal men right in front of each other, usually while sweaty and naked. He’d had his bisexual awakening in this room. Seemed like a long time ago, even though it had only been a few months. 

Scott crossed over to the bank of lockers, stopping at the one on the end that used to belong to Stiles. Closing his eyes he brushed his nose against the cool metal side to see if he could still find his best friend’s scent. At first, he couldn’t find it. Or at least he wasn’t sure if it was really there or if he was just imagining it. Then, he craned his neck around to the front and took a big whiff near the slats and got blasted by a surprisingly strong hit of Stiles. 

He must’ve left something behind. Scott sniffed again. A dirty jock by the smell of it. Scott groaned, rubbing his chubby into the hard edge of the locker. “I always knew you two losers were more than just friends,” a familiar voice said. 

Turning his head around, Scott’s smile grew bigger, warmer. “The same way you two were more than just enemies,” he retorted, knowingly. Jackson flushed pink, already down to nothing but a jockstrap with his hard cock pulled out to the side. He’d thickened out since high school, but he was still beautiful. Even with the platinum dye job. “Got a head start.”

Jackson shrugged. “Had some time to kill,” he said, holding up a crumpled jockstrap in his hand for Scott to see. “I nicked one from your replacement. The kid’s got a strong scent. I can see why you were drawn to him.”

“It was an accident,” Scott explained. 

“Instinct,” Jackson corrected, burying his nose in the jock and taking a deep breath. His dick throbbed and Scott’s did too. Despite the years apart they hadn’t lost their sync. Jackson slowly opened his eyes, the fluorescent blue still as startling as ever contrasted with his pale, pale skin. 

“Smells good,” Jackson murmured, his voice low and hot. “Bet he tastes even better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Scott confirmed, grinning from ear to ear. Jackson couldn’t help but smile fondly at that enthusiasm he remembered so well. Some things never change. 

“You gonna come over here, dumbass,” Jackson challenged, pointedly stroking his dick. “Or should I finish without you, too?”

Eyes glowing red, Scott allowed a low rumble erupt from his chest. Jackson groaned, baring his throat, even as he continued sniffing Liam’s jock. In three steps Scott was directly in front of his former co-captain, his lips trailing along the expanse of pale neck as his hand curled around Jackson’s shaft. 

“ _ Alpha... _ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos welcome!
> 
> If this inspires you, please write/create! Scackson is a rarepair that never gets enough love. I'm desperate!


	7. Jon and Tormund [Oral Sex, Pet Names, Semi-Public/Outdoor Sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Tormund have sex outside at Winterfell. Sequel to Bits of Stuff Chapter 7 set sometime before "The Long Night" when they are both at Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the idea for this ficlet before the first I posted [Chapter 7 in Bits of Stuff], but I couldn't quite put it into words until now. Last night I saw a bunch of Jonmund content on Tumblr and it inspired me to finally write this. I hope you like it!

Tormund wandered down the covered walkway searching for a quiet bit of ledge and a suitable snowbank. Back home, in the North, he’d long ago be finished already. Any snowbank, anywhere would’ve been fine, but the Southerners had very particular notions about where a man can or should piss and shit. They had little rooms that reeked and stank where a man was expected to do his business. 

Squatting over a hole while taking a shit was fine by him. Enjoyable even. Much better than having to bare your ass in the freezing cold. But when a man has to answer the call of nature there was something demeaning about pissing into a chamberpot. He was a man of the Free Folk for Gods’ sake! And a free man should be free to piss where he liked, chamberpot or no, appropriate or no.

Eventually, he found his spot. Tucked away in a corner, past where the night guards made their rounds, there was a ledge and snow and nobody around. Pulling aside his furs and skins, Tormund freed his member and released his bladder directing his stream over the edge, down into the snow, like a man should. 

He sighed in relief, his breath fogging in the cold night air. He smiled as he held his flaccid cock in both his hands and pissed over the side of the castle wall. Not a proper height like The Wall, but all the same a decent size for something made by men from stone and wood. The ache for home hit him hard in his chest. 

The Wall. The True North. The endless snows. The bitter, bitter cold. 

Odd how a man could miss the awful things as well as the good. 

Footsteps crunched in the snow behind him. “Leave in peace or in pieces,” he warned over his shoulder. 

“Strong talk for a man holding his pecker out in the cold like a barbarian,” Jon teased.

Craning his neck further around, Tormund gazed at his visitor and smiled, his piss pooling now just in front of his feet. “Ah, little Crow,” he fondly greeted. “Join me!”

Faintly smiling, Jon walked over and stood shoulder to shoulder with his most loyal friend. He made no move to piss. He merely stood and waited and stared off into the calm darkness of his childhood home while Tormund did his business. “What? Don’t want your men to think you’ve gone wild, eh?”

Jon huffed a laugh. “I never did learn to love pissing in the outdoors,” he replied. He dropped his hand onto Tormund’s shoulder and squeezed. “And that isn’t what I followed you out here for,” he whispered. 

“No?” Tormund quirked an eyebrow at the shorter man and shook his cock to let loose the last drops. Jon looked back at him with soft, hungry eyes. “I thought such things were unwelcome here in the south?”

“This isn’t the--They are, but...” Jon stammered. 

Finished, Tormund turned towards Jon and gently grabbed his chin, tilting his face upwards. “My pretty, little Crow,” he murmured, tracing the pad of his thumb along the bottom line of Jon’s parted lips. “I’ll kill any man for you.”

Unable to hold back a chuckle, Jon stepped closer, reaching a hand out to touch Tormund’s soft cock. The older man inhaled sharply through his nose as Jon’s cold, leather glove skimmed his length. “I know you would,” he said, tugging at Tormund’s member with tender regard. “But try not to kill anyone tonight. Word will get out.”

“I would never deny you anything,” Tormund swore, earnest and hungry himself now. Hardening despite the cold. “Not to my snowwife.”

“Your--” Whatever Jon was about to say died when Tormund leaned down and pressed his lips to his. The tension in Jon’s shoulders fell away as he opened his mouth wider, coaxing Tormund’s tongue with his own. He shivered. The kiss deepened. Jon removed his glove and grasped his lover’s member in his hand, skin to skin, warming the shaft in his palm.

“A man could lose his pecker waiting for you,” Tormund joked, letting his hand drift back, digging into the younger man’s soft locks. Jon smiled and Tormund pecked the corner of his plush mouth, teasing the supple skin with his tongue.

Jon kissed Tormund once more, a quick and messy kiss that ended too soon. Sparing a glance for the castle and the walls, Jon slowly eased to his knees. He jerked his cloak tighter around him and held Tormund’s gaze in his as he took the tip of his member into his mouth and suckled, tasting the last, stubborn drop of piss that still clung to his slit. 

Tormund shook all over and guffawed, his face splitting into a wide grin in the torch light. “A fair sight and a warm mouth are worth every chill.”

Blushing pink, Jon took more of the formidable length, tending the rest with his bare hand. Gradually, he took more. Then most. Then all, until his nose rubbed against those red, wiry shorthairs. 

The smell of his musk was strong in his furs and his skin. Jon pushed himself further still before pulling off and pressing his nose there where Tormund and his clothes were met. Unwashed and unkempt from the road. Pure. As it always was. Jon swiped his tongue through the hairs chasing the taste he had missed for too many months. 

A large hand cupped the back of Jon’s head, holding him in place. He groaned. “A man’s balls could fall off on a night like tonight,” Tormund said, taking his member in hand. His knuckles brushed Jon’s cheek. 

“Yes, they could,” Jon agreed, panting lightly against Tormund’s skin, his breathes trapped by the furs, leaving him overwarm. He pressed a kiss to that hairy mound and dragged his face back close along the shaft. He captured the end again sucking harshly while Tormund continued stroking himself. 

“Ai, my pretty Crow.” Tormund thumbed the side of Jon’s face, memorizing the soft cheek and the hard lines of the skull underneath. “Pretty enough to drive a man mad.”

“You already were.” 

Playfully growling, Tormund smacked his member against Jon’s upturned and smiling face. “Damn true!” Tormund freed Jon’s curls from their band, carding his fingers through those girlish curls. He grabbed hold of a handful and yanked Jon’s head to the side. “Tormund Thunderfist, Husband of Bears, Slayer of Giants,” he proclaimed, swatting Jon’s lips with his cock at each boast. 

“And Lover of Crows?”

“Of  _ one  _ Crow,” Tormund corrected. “ _ My _ Crow.”

Batting Tormund’s hand away, Jon reclaimed the man’s member by hand and mouth, resuming his earlier passion. Tormund rested his palm atop Jon’s forehead, keeping him down and at a slight distance while he pushed his hips forward. Jon’s tongue flicked around his sensitive tip, dancing around the thick head, and into the dribbling slit all the while suckling like a whelp on the tit. 

“Enough to drive a man mad.” Dragging his hands through his snowwife’s curls on both sides of his head, Tormund plunged his shaft deeper into his warm, wet mouth. Jon settled, hands on his knees, taking what he was given, more and more. He gagged as the tip speared the back of his throat for the first time in too long. Tormund, though, didn’t relent but half a moment before doing the same again and again in that animal rhythm. 

Tears welled up in the corners of Jon’s eyes, but he held his peace rubbing at his own hardened member under the safety of his cloak. His slit leaked against his thigh, below his clothes, as he took Tormund deeper and for longer. The years had not been kind in most respects, but in this he could feel at home. This familiar dance from Beyond the Wall.

“Here, what’s this?” 

Instantly, Tormund stepped to the side angling himself between Jon and the stranger interrupting them. With only the dim torch light from the inner corridor Jon’s face could not be seen as long as he kept the man away and kept Jon close. “Leave,” Tormund demanded. 

“Having a midnight tryst with your lady love?” The man asked, trying to peek around Tormund for a glimpse of who he was with. “Think she’d fancy a second go?”

Stonefaced and colder than winter, Tormund drew the dagger from his hip and pointed it at the man’s throat. “Leave or die, little man,” he warned in a low, dangerous voice.

“What? She’s not too good for the likes of you, wildling,” The man spat beginning to draw his own weapon. “Least I’m her countryman.” 

Acting fast, Tormund spun around on his heels, pulled out of Jon, grabbed the guard by the collar and nearly lifted him off the ground singlehanded while holding his dagger right into the man’s skin. Jon gasped quietly for breath behind him as he stared down their intrusive servant. “Leave or you’ll be my new lady love, little man,” he threatened. 

The man paled. He wriggled out of Tormund’s grip and stepped away after trying futilely to push the taller, broader wildling away from him. “You’re disgusting,” he railed with a sour angry expression. “You filthy beast! I could have your head for this!”

“Or I could have yours,” Tormund countered, taking a step forward, dagger at the ready. “Right here. Right now.”

Wisely, the man chose to leave. “Watch your back, wildling,” he menaced as he backed away. “You and your little whore.”

With the man gone, Tormund sheathed his dagger and pivoted back to Jon still kneeling in the snow. The two men stared at each other in silence, one flushed with irritation, the other with embarrassment. “I don’t think he saw your face,” Tormund assured him. “If he did and he squeals, I’ll toss him over this wall after I slit his throat.”

“It’s not that,” Jon murmured. Tormund looked him over concerned. He had no wound and his breathing was even if quick. He waited for an explanation. Jon blushed even darker. “I-I finished.”

“You…?” 

“Finished,” Jon repeated, turning his face away towards the empty hills of Winterfell. 

It took a moment, but Tormund barked a laugh once he realized his meaning. “My little Crow,” he cooed, stomping over to Jon. He took the younger man’s face in hand and pulled him up to his feet. He kissed his forehead, nuzzled his cheek, and kissed him while he chuckled. “A more perfect snowwife no man ever had.”

Jon knocked Tormund back and slugged his shoulder. Tormund laughed. Jon shushed him, seizing him by the furs to haul him closer again. The two men hugged, forcing Jon to rest his head against Tormund’s bobbing chest. 

For a moment, they simply held each other, basking in the shared warmth. “And how shall I finish, my dainty lady love?”

“Don’t call me that,” Jon insisted. 

“My sweet snowwife, my darling, my little Crow,” Tormund amended. He slicked his hand over Jon’s freed curls, quirking his eyebrow as Jon met his eyes. “Do you still…?”

“Yes, but we must be quick.”

In an instant, Jon was on his knees. He wrapped his lips and both hands around Tormund’s softened manhood and brought him back to fullness. He worked him urgently and sloppily, his face and hands coated in saliva from his need and Tormund’s rapid, penetrating thrusts. 

Above him, Tormund grunted going quiet as he neared his end. “My love,” he mumbled, erupting inside his mouth. Unwilling to wait, Tormund picked Jon up and kissed him hard on the mouth, tasting his own seed on his tongue. Jon moaned, gripping the throbbing, dripping shaft and pulling until Tormund hissed in discomfort. 

They pulled apart. Jon wiped his face and mouth with his hand before regloving. Tormund carefully returned his member back into his trousers and adjusted his furs. The two smiled at each other like idiots and shared a final kiss. Jon headed inside first. 

While he waited to leave, Tormund stared up at the stars. Somewhat different, yet the same. Like home, but not. And yet, all men must piss. And at least he got to, under the stars and into the snow. As a man should. With his snowwife beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos welcome!


	8. Thorki; Stripper!Loki Sequel [BDSM, Boot Licking, Cock and Ball Torture, Sub!Thor, Dom!Loki]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki are together now and experiment with BDSM. Sequel not!fic to Chapter 4 Thorki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The under negotiated kink/mildly dubious consent tags are serious. It is mentioned that they've discussed things, but Loki pretty much blindsides Thor with this kink scene. This isn't the most healthy representation of BDSM, but when is Loki ever 100% unproblematic?

This another story beat from the Thorki not!fic of Chapter 4, set months into Thor and Loki properly dating. So far they’ve talked, kissed (a lot) and held hands, but no sex. Loki won’t let them go that far yet and Thor is SUPER thirsty for that D. He’s surprised at the way this thing with Loki seems to be going. For him, his sex life exists at two extremes: one night stands versus longterm relationships. And so far, him and Loki seem to be heading down the actual relationship route, which wasn’t what he expected but Thor is more than willing. 

One night, nearly three in the morning actually, when Loki invites him over, Thor is so excited and eager he’s in his car before Loki can text him his address. He shows up dressed in his lounging-in-the-penthouse outfit. Mainly a plain, white undershirt, a pair of sandals, and a pair of stretchy, cotton yoga pants. (He’s bulky, but he likes to maintain a certain amount of flexibility too. Plus, the silky pants are super comfortable.)

When he arrives at Loki’s apartment in the gayborhood, Loki is back in his costume, fresh from work. And HOT DAMN is Thor ready. He seriously wants that D. (Especially if he can get it with Loki dressed like this. The man’s vibrant green, shoulder strap thong, nipple piercings, and thigh high boots does things to him.) 

Loki offers him a drink and Thor takes a beer. He sips on it, eyes stuck on Loki like heat on a fire, and waits for things to get started. They’ve talked about things they want to do sexually, Loki loved making out and having Thor tell him all the things he’s wanted to do in bed, everything he’s into, everything he’s done. And tonight is the first night that something is going to come of it. The first night that they are actually going to  _ do _ it. Thor can feel it.

Then, glass of wine in hand, Loki perches on the edge of his kitchen table and pushes out one of the chairs. Putting his foot on it, he says, “Get on your knees and lick my boots.”

Thor chuckles dryly at first with that rich boy air of yeah-right-good-one-bro-that’s-not-happening. He mentioned he might be into it, but he never thought they’d try it out, particularly not for their first time together. But Loki doesn’t smile, doesn’t shrug it off, doesn’t move beyond raising an expectant eyebrow. Thor’s smile fades. He gulps. Loki means it. This is happening. All of a sudden his heart feels like it’s lodged in his throat, his mouth completely dry.

He takes a quick swig of his beer and sets the bottle down somewhere. He still isn’t sure if this is a joke or not. His frat back in college pulled dumbass stunts like this all the time on their pledges, but none of it was real. It never meant anything, it was all for show, for shit and giggles. This isn’t. At least he hopes it isn’t. 

Slowly, he walks towards Loki. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe this is happening. He’s never talked about this specific desire with anybody else. How could he? One night stands aren’t conducive to this sort of thing. And his longer lasting relationships have been with women. Regular, everyday, amazing and gorgeous, largely vanilla women. None of whom ever mentioned any interest in more hardcore stuff. 

Keeping his eyes on Loki, waiting for the veneer to crack for the joke to be over, he drops to his knees in front of him. No change. Loki is still waiting, still deadly earnest. No laughter, no demeaning jibes, no no-homo crap. Just patience and command. 

With slightly nervous hands, Thor reaches out and gently cups the back of Loki’s calves. They feel solid beneath the leather, unsurprising given Loki’s profession and Thor can’t help but shiver. He’s finally getting to explore Loki’s body, to touch him. It’s a bit heady. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest. 

Leaning down, Thor holds Loki’s gaze to the last second and then stares at the boot as he lickes a broad swipe midcalf up towards the knee. All he can taste is leather. Hardly appealing. He makes a face, glances up at Loki to check he’s not changed his mind. Nope. Thor bends down and licks again. And again. And then again, dragging his tongue up the side of the boot at an angle so Loki can see him doing it. 

“Do you like it?” Loki asks. “Do you like licking my boot?”

“No,” Thor replies, honest as ever. 

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because,” Thor stammers turning beet red. “Because you told me to.”

Loki’s face breaks out into the biggest shit-eating grin Thor has ever seen. “That’s right. I did. Good boy. Keep going.” 

Lightning shoots through Thor’s entire body like he’s being electrocuted. He moans a little, though he tries not to, and ducks his head down to continue licking Loki’s boot just so he has something to do, something to distract him from how hot his face is and how fast his breathing is. And how hard his cock is. The blood is rushing to his dick like there’s no tomorrow, leaving him a little dizzy. Thank God Loki is so fit, he might be the only thing holding him upright. 

Obediently, Thor continues licking Loki’s boot. He gets more into it, wants to give Loki a good show, wants to make it feel good if such a thing is possible. He begins swirling his tongue in various patterns, trying things out. His left hand drifts upwards to cup the back of the knee and Thor extends his range like he’s laying out a beautiful woman. 

He can see the hungry look in Loki’s eyes when he glances at him and he gives it his all. Basically, making out with Loki’s boot. “That’s enough,” Loki announces and Thor stops mid-swipe, almost reluctant to let go. His dick is straining against the seam of his yoga pants and as stretchy as they are, it is uncomfortable. Pulling away, Thor settles on his knees and adjusts his erection, so it’s pointing along his thigh. 

Loki just smiles before twisting his leg and midsection around so that the toe of his boot sits on the chair with the heel pointed at Thor. “Suck my heel,” Loki commands.

Thor stares at the thick leather stump. It’s not as big as it would be for go-go boots, but it certainly isn’t thin. It couldn’t be. He wears them to dance in. He gulps a little nervous again. He sucked a dick once or twice back in college. Mostly when he was drunk and horny or high and horny and he wasn’t getting any from his girl and one of his frat brothers was in the same boat. Not much experience. He’d never really considered men that much before Loki. He told him that. 

Despite his misgivings, Thor once more leans forward and wraps his lips around the unrelenting nub. It feels foreign on his tongue, hard and unyielding. There’s no give, so he does his best to avoid jostling Loki too much. It tastes like dust and it’s by far the most unsexy thing he’s ever done, but he’s still pitching a tent in his yoga pants. Mostly because Loki is staring at him like he’s gazing into his soul and Thor can’t remember the last time he’s shared this kind of real intimacy with another person. Eye to eye. 

It’s so intense, Thor has to close his eyes to not keel over. He makes sure to suck on Loki’s heel like it’s the greatest thing in the world, pretending it’s the dick he still hasn’t gotten yet. “Do you like this better, baby,” Loki asks. “Do you like sucking on my heel?”

“Naw,” Thor replies around his mouthful.

“But you look so good doing it,” Loki cooes. Thor groans, blushing again. “I can’t wait to see you sucking my dick someday. I bet you’d look even prettier then.” 

Again, Thor groans. No dick for him tonight, apparently, but also Loki thinks he’s pretty. And for whatever reason that really gets him going. “You’re going to be an excellent cocksucker for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yee.”

Loki bends his knee, pulling the hell away from Thor’s mouth. It glistens with his spit. “Yes? Yes, what?”

“Yes...” Thor looks him in the eye. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.”

Thor moans reaching down absently to grab his dick and readjust once more. 

“Uh, uh, uh,” Loki tuts. Thor freezes. “I think you’ve touched yourself enough for one night.”

Thor gapes open mouthed. Loki rolls his eyes and stands up, putting both feet on the ground. “But you’ve been such a good boy for me tonight, I guess you deserve a reward.” 

Sliding the toe of his boot up Thor’s thigh, Loki nudges his erection, teasing him. Thor pants as Loki digs his toe against the leaking slit, the unforgiving leather won’t get him off, but it drives him a little crazy. But then, Loki nudges further, tracing the soft curve of his toe along his shaft. Scotting forward, Loki brings his heel down trapping Thor’s cock against his thigh and digging into his slit with the hard edge. 

He gasps and whines, hands instinctively moving to relieve the pressure. “Hold still,” Loki demands and somehow Thor manages to stop, panting and red-faced. Dick throbbing, regardless. It hurts, but it also makes Thor feel shivery and hot and dizzy. “Does this feel good, baby?”

“No--Yes.”

“Which is it?”

“Both,” Thor replies, helpless. 

“Do you like it?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, sir,” Thor insisted, shaking his head. 

“Can you come like this?”

“I--I don’t know, sir.”

“Try,” Loki instructs.

Heaving an unsure sigh, Thor rucked up his shirt, pulling it into his pits so he could get at his chest. He’s always had sensitive nipples. He plucks and twists and rubs the hardened peaks obsessively. He leans back for leverage and slightly pumps his hips against Loki’s sole. He doesn’t get reprimanded, so he keeps going that way, teasing his nips and rolling his hips.

“Beautiful,” Loki murmurs. “So desperate to be good for me. I knew you’d be perfect for me the moment I saw you. So big and pretty. So needy.” 

Thor moans, flushing pink. He’s been called many things, but needy isn’t one of them. But right now, he’s probably the very picture of needy and desperate and...he likes it. He feels so light, so free. All he has to do is get off and he’s good at that.

“You’re a needy little slut, aren’t you, Thor?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles. 

“Yes, you are,” Loki affirms. “Are you going to be a good boy and come for me, baby? Are you going to come for your new master?”

“Yes,” Thor sighs and before he can even breath he’s erupting. Come shoot down his thigh, splatting some on Loki’s hardwood floor as the rest soaks into Thor’s yoga pants. 

In the end it looks like he’s wet himself. He might’ve screamed as he came for all he knows. He feels so lightheaded and warm and good and worn out. Loki helps him to his feet, helps get him out of his soiled clothes while he kisses him softly and pets him. 

He drinks a whole bottle of water that Loki gets for him and then Loki walks him to his bed. He’s too out of it to drive and pretty abruptly he’s beyond exhausted. He sinks into Loki’s king size bed, happily. Once he’s tucked in, Loki goes and showers. By the time he comes back, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, Thor is already dozing. He slips into bed with him and Thor rolls over to spoon him before promptly falling asleep.

And that is the first night they sleep together.


	9. Thorki Drabble [Post Ragnorak, Power Bottom!Thor]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki have sex after the events of Ragnorak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never tried my hand at an honest to god drabble before. Limiting myself to 100 words was tough. I tend to be more flowery and descriptive, but I thought I'd give this a try.

Bracing himself against the onslaught, Loki smirked watching his brother’s undulating hips. “Such fierce need. Shameless. Brazen,” He angled his body slightly away. “Are you certain my cock alone will suffice?”

Thor caught him by the thigh. “No more teasing.” He tugged the limb forward until Loki’s foot rested flat atop the bed, his cock deeper inside. 

“Whatever, you desire, my king.” Bringing his other leg into the same position as the first, Loki lightly draped himself over his brother’s sweat-slicked back. He flicked his tongue along the shell of his ear. “I live to serve you.”

Thor shuddered. “Brother...”


	10. Wincest On the Roadside [Outdoor Sex, Car Sex, Bottom!Dean, Slutty!Dean]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are having sex on the side of the road. They get interrupted. Does that stop them? 
> 
> HA! No.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure, silly Wincest smut. No redeeming value. 
> 
> I wrote this awhile ago, but couldn't get the ending quite right. I'm still not sure I did, but here...I need to stop obsessing.

Dean bit his lip, his fingers trying to dig into his Baby’s smooth, metallic hood for purchase. Without success. He curled his hands into fists and breathed, staring off into the empty plot of scrubland in front of him. The stretch and burn always hurt in the best of ways during those first few thrusts. 

Sam tightened his grip on Dean’s hips, scooting forward to get off the grass and onto the gravel of the road. Dean sharply inhaled through his nose, his back arching as his head snapped up. “There, Sammy,” he groaned, eyes fluttering. “ _ Jesus _ . Right there, dude.”

Pressing flush with his brother’s ass, Sam slammed his hips forward and Dean moaned. Message received, Sam set a quick pace, rough and tumble. Dean’s breath turned ragged, his head sagging as his eyes rolled back in his head. Another sharp thrust and his leg hitched up on it’s own. Dean fell forward, his cheek now resting against the sun-warmed hood.

He should’ve found some trees to park under. He could feel sweat building on his temples. He should’ve listened to Sam and left his leather jacket in the car, but he hadn’t been hot until now bent as he was over the hood, and he hadn’t wanted to give Sam the satisfaction. Not that kind of satisfaction at any rate. 

Dean reached down, lightly pulling on his softened cock. “That all ya got, Sammy,” he taunted over his shoulder with a smile on his face. Sam snorted and pounded his brother with a few brutal, expertly aimed thrusts to shut him up. Dean stuttered a laugh, his dick hardening in his loose grip. 

“There he is,” he crowed. “There’s my boy!”

Fighting back a smile of his own, Sam pushed with his hips, walking them forward until Dean was pressed flat into the body of the Impala then he grabbed his brother by the shoulders. 

“F-fuuu--mmm,” Dean growled, the change in angle a shock to his system. Sam bucked into him, buried deep, and Dean saw stars, his own erection poking into the bumper as their car rocked from side to side with every thrust. 

“Sorry, Baby,” Dean mumbled. “Sammy’s getting a little rough.”

“Are we having a threesome now?” 

“Sorry, Sammy, but Baby’s not that kinda girl.” 

Sam scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.” 

With a smile on his face, Dean slid his sweat-damp hand up and down the Impala’s hood like he was soothing a frightened animal. “Ignore him, Baby. He’ll never understand.” 

Suddenly, out of nowhere,  _ whoop-whooop _ . 

Police sirens. 

Close by!

Way too close!!! 

“Dammit,” Dean swore under his breath. “Pull out, pull out, pull out.”

Sam gave the back of Dean’s head a pinched, sour look for the unnecessary orders since he was already backing away from his older brother. Finally, he slipped out, and in a flash, Dean yanked up his pants, shoved his junk back inside, then hastily redid his belt with practiced ease. 

Ah, the lessons of a misspent youth. He looked back at Sam, flustered with his erection still lubed and hanging out of his pants. “Put  _ that _ away,” he hissed.

“I  **can’t** ,” Sam hissed back. Dean raised his eyebrows awaiting an explanation. Sam huffed. “It won’t fit. My pants are too tight.” 

A look came over Dean’s face that perfectly expressed disbelief, annoyance, and yes no small amount of fraternal pride. Sam blushed under that heated look. Cautiously, he eyed their unexpected intruder and shrugged, helpless. 

Dean rolled his eyes, wrenching open the passenger side door as the police cruiser rolled to a stop behind the Impala. Dean tilted his head to the side. Sam nodded. They now had a plan.

Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, Dean walked to the other side of Sam. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, straightened his jacket, and pulled his most charming smile. Slowly, Dean eased his way down the body of the Impala with a studied, untroubled gait. 

The Impala shook slightly beside him and Dean glanced over his shoulder. In his periphery he could see Sam’s feet on the ground, his head sticking out of the passenger side. As long as he kept the cop by the trunk and far away from Sam and his stubborn Godzilla cock, they were in the clear. Dean’s smile took a more sincere slant. He raised his hand in greeting. “Afternoon, officer!”

The county officer stepped out of his vehicle, gun holstered, not quite lackadaisical, but not aggressive either. Clearly not on the warpath. “Afternoon, officer,” Dean repeated. “Something the matter?”

“You’re not from around here,” the older man stated. He wore a cowboy hat and sunglasses like an old time sheriff mixed with a bad smalltown movie villain. Deep etched wrinkles lined his face, and he didn’t look like a man who smiled often, but Dean didn’t get the sense that he was a prick either. 

“No, sir,” Dean affirmed. “My brother and I are just passing through. Headed home.”

“And where’s that?”

“Kansas, sir.”

“Uh-huh,” the cop said, in a flat tone that didn’t believe him or disbelieve him. Underneath his congenial expression Dean grimaced. He hated that neutral tone of voice. It always put him on edge, which was probably the point. Did they teach cops how to do that at the academy? “Car trouble?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Dean hastily replied, his pride on display. He’d never let anything keep Baby down. “Just, uh, you know, Nature calls.” 

Silence. 

“My brother’s got a bladder the size of a peanut,” Dean quipped hoping to break the ice. The cop continued to say a lot by not saying anything. Dean shrugged as easygoing as you please. “So, if there’s nothing else--”

“Listen, son,” the cop said. Dean bristled, but held his peace. “I ain’t got anything against you or your people.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. Where was this going?

“Who you love is your own business. And there’s nothing wrong with it,” the officer quickly added. “But public indecency is still a crime.”

BUSTED!!!!! 

Flabbergasted Dean didn’t know what to say. “Uh...” 

“But just to show there’s no hard feelings, or whatever, I’m gonna give you and your ‘brother’ a chance to clear outta here,” the man offered, hands on his hips.

What could he have seen? Dean thought back to what was happening when they first heard the siren. The car could’ve been a’rocking. With Sam, things like that were always a possibility. Red-faced, Dean muttered, “Um, well, thanks.”

The cop nodded his head. “This particular backroad is popular with the kids.” 

Dean didn’t know how to respond to that so he didn’t. 

The cop sighed. “You and your boyfriend should keep on your way home,” he suggested. “If I catch the two of you here later I will take you in.”

“Understood.”

The cop sighed. “Next time, you and your ‘brother’ should just get a motel room like normal people,” the officer recommended, as goodnaturedly condescending as a man could get. “Not everybody out here is as understanding as I am.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. We will.” Dean flashed a winning smile as the man turned and started walking back to his cruiser. “ Have a nice day, officer!”

Awkwardly rooted to the spot, Dean waved the officer goodbye. The older man didn’t return the gesture as he slid into his seat. Dean retracted his hand and stood there putting on his best dumb-dumb face. When the cruiser pulled off the shoulder Dean waved again like an idiot and then dropped the act once he’d passed them by.

Letting out his held breath, Dean turned around. He shook his head and started walking back to his brother. At this point Sam was seated fully in the car, feet and all inside the cabin, impatiently watching from the side mirror. He poked his head out again. “So, what did he want?”

“To give us the news.” Dean quipped, “Santa Claus is coming to town!”

Sam pursed his lips, unamused. “Ha-ha.” 

“No, really,” Dean continued, finally at the passenger side. He ducked his head down and stared. “Wait. Are-are you still hard?”

“What? No?” Sam lied, squeezing his knees in tighter as if that would hide his erection. He blushed, covering his obviously hard dick with his hands. 

“Sammy, my man,” Dean teased, tapping on the roof of his car in excitement. “Always knew you were a kinky son-of-a-bitch.”

“Am not,” Sam argued. 

“Getting caught gets you hot, good to know,” Dean bantered. 

“No, it wasn’t--I just--Dean really? You’re acting like a child.” Sam shoved Dean in the stomach, trying to knock some sense back into his older brother. “Now what did he want? What did he say? What did you say?”

“I told him you’ve got the bladder control of a ninety year old,” Dean lied. Sam shot his brother with his puppy dog eyes and Dean sighed. “He wants us to clear out.”

“So, are we?”

“In a minute.” Dean reached down and grabbed his brother’s shaft. 

“Dean!” Sam squirmed in his brother’s grasp and squeezed the vinyl seat to keep his hands to himself. 

“Easy, Sammy,” Dean cooed. He pumped his brother’s cock a couple times, then turned his hand the other way in a milk-twist-and-tug maneuver. Sam throbbed in his grip. “Kinda hot you being all into this.”

“Dean,” Sam whined, about to protest again. He chose a different tack even as his hips rose to meet his brother’s hand. “S-Shouldn’t we go? Somewhere else?”

“Later.” Dean let Sam’s dick slip out of his grasp. 

Sam groaned, sagging into the seat. “Won’t he be back?”

“We got at least half an hour before he comes back...Most likely.”

“Dean--”

“We ain’t wasting all this lube,” Dean announced. To settle the matter Dean took the tip of his brother’s dick between his fingers and rubbed the slit with his thumb while he gently squeezed the head. Sam about convulsed out of his seat. “Whattaya say, Sammy? You with me?”

“Y-yeah,” Sam stammered, clearing his throat. He nodded his head, batting his brother’s hand away, so he could think for himself again. 

“Atta boy,” Dean quipped, winking at his unamused brother. “Backseat, Gigantor. Let’s go.”

Opening the backseat door, Dean slid onto the seat, undoing his belt again and wriggling out of his jeans while his brother took his own sweet time getting out of the car. “Sam!”

“I’m coming.” 

“You will be,” Dean comically warned as he pushed his jeans down around the tops of his boots. “If you know what’s good for ya.”

“If we get arrested because of you...” 

“Quit wastin’ time, Sammy,” Dean barked. Sam slammed his door shut.

Dean pulled his boxer briefs down just over the swell of his ass and laid on his side. Tentatively, he reached back and felt his hole. Still wet, still stretched, and ready to go. He smiled as he plopped onto his back. “Get the lead out, soldier.”

“This is insane,” Sam complained as he walked up to the passenger side backdoor, his dick arriving slightly before him. “We’re going to end up in prison.  _ Again _ .” 

“Waaah, waaah. Quit ya whining ya big baby.” Dean pulled softly on the underside of his brother’s cock, coaxing him back to full throbbing hardness again with his patented make-Sammy-shut-up-and-fuck-already slit-rub-slash-head-squeeze manuever. 

Irritated and aroused, Sam knocked Dean’s hand away and grabbed his brother’s legs. Bending Dean in half, Sam folded his legs into the car so that Dean’s feet pressed against the corner where the roof of the car met the side. With him in this position, Sam ducked down inside, guiding his cock towards Dean’s hole. He met his brother’s gaze. 

“Quick and dirty, Sammy. Make it good, make it fast.” Dean nodded and Sam slid in partway. Dean gasped and released a shaky breath. Sam froze. Dean tapped him on the thigh. “Don’t gotta be gentle, Sammy. I won’t break.”

“You sure?”

“Ask me again and I’ll pop you one,” Dean breathlessly threatened. 

Sam rolled his eyes, but slammed home regardless. Dean hissed through his teeth and grabbed his flaccid dick through the soft material of his underwear. “That’s more like it,” he panted. Sam shook his head fondly and set up a quick and dirty rhythm, resting most of his weight on Dean’s legs. 

“Jesus, you weigh a ton!”

“Oh, shut up,” Sam sagely retorted. 

In no time at all, the Impala was rocking and rolling on it’s suspension once again. Sam was red and sweaty above his brother, bellowing like a bull, while Dean snaked a hand into his boxers to get some relief. “That’s my boy,” he crowed. “There he is!” 

Dean grabbed Sam by the hair and yanked him down. Furiously jerking off as his brother pounded into him. “Gonna make me shoot, Sammy. So close.  _ Jesus _ ! You close?”

“Do it, Dean,” Sam demanded. He leaned down, folding Dean in tighter. “I’m so close.”

His brother’s hot breath on his neck made Dean shudder, toes curling in his boots as he started spurting directly into his boxer briefs. “Fudge,” he hollered. “Fudgin’ fudge, fudge!”

“Dean,” Sam whispered into the crook of his brother’s neck, racing to meet his own release. Dean surprised him with a kiss and Sam moaned, his hips stuttering as he abruptly shot his load. 

After Dean caught his breath, he shoved Sam off of him. “No chick-flick moments,” he said, while basically forcing Sam out of the car. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Sam gripped, his hard-on slowly wilting. Thus banished, he trudged to the trunk. 

“Thank you, I know,” Dean gloated, taking the insult as a compliment. He tried to sit up and groaned. His ass hurt and his underwear was ruined. He’d spend the rest of their ride itchy and sticky and sore, but damn if it wasn’t worth it. 

Sam returned with a roll of toilet paper, his dick appropriately stowed away. Dean grabbed the roll and dumped in the footwell, already at peace with his decision. Getting out of the backseat, he patted Sam on the chest. “Come on, Sammy! Let’s hit the road.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos welcome!


End file.
